


He Was Everything

by cheshire6845



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: A/U, Angst, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, off screen major character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 02:08:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12807300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshire6845/pseuds/cheshire6845
Summary: A/U Henry didn't survive the trip to Neverland. The two mothers have to survive the emotional fallout.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I spent the last week driving across country and this idea got in my head and wouldn't leave. It's a pretty quickly written piece for me so forgive my mistakes. Hope you like it.

Emma unlocked the mansion’s front door and cautiously pushed it open. She and Regina weren’t exactly mortal enemies anymore, not since Neverland and everything that had happened there…but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t get a fireball to the face for coming into Regina’s house uninvited.

“Regina?” she called out, making her way slowly over the threshold.

The house was silent as a tomb. Emma flinched at her own morbid mental image but couldn’t quite shake it. Everything looked as pristine and neat as it always did. There wasn’t a speck of dust in sight nor a single item out of place. It made Emma shudder.

She dropped her keys on the table near the front door. “Regina? You here?”

It had been three days since their return from Neverland. Three days since she’d left the loft and three days since she’d spoken to Regina. Which also meant that it had probably been five days since Regina had spoken at all. During the two-day trip back from Neverland, Regina hadn’t talked to any of them. She’d performed the required magic and then returned to her silent vigil. As soon as they'd arrived, Emma had looked for her and seen only the remnants of purple smoke. She'd disappeared. 

The Mercedes was parked in the driveway and looked as though it hadn’t been moved since before their trip to Peter Pan’s Island of Hell. According to Granny, no one had seen Regina since their return, but everyone assumed she was at the mansion.

Emma walked further into the house, glancing into the living room and the kitchen as she passed their open doors. She didn’t notice anything out of place and guessed the brunette had retreated to her study.

The door to the study was closed, and even as Emma raised her hand to knock, she had no idea what she was going to say to the older woman. She was pretty emotionally numb herself and basically running on fumes. The only reason she was out of bed and pretending to function was because she lived with Mary Margaret and David. The looks of pity mixed with yearning and sympathetic platitudes were driving her crazy. When Mary Margaret suggested checking on Regina, Emma volunteered. She reasoned that she was the least likely to be murdered on sight. She didn’t admit it out loud, but she figured that even if Regina was feeling homicidal…would that really be so bad?

She rapped on the study’s solid oak door. “Regina?” Honestly, if the woman was in the room drinking herself stupid, Emma wouldn’t judge. She could really use a drink herself. “Come on, I know you’re in there.”

When she didn’t get a response, or hear any sign of life from inside the room, she twisted the handle and pushed open the door. The study was empty although it did hold the first evidence that Regina had come back to the mansion. The almost empty decanter of the ‘best apple cider’ was on the low coffee table next to a battered photo she knew Regina had carried with her on the island. When Emma stepped further into the room, she could see shards of a shattered crystal glass in front of the fireplace.

An uncomfortable knot began to twist in Emma’s gut. She scanned the room to see if anything else was out of place and found nothing. She backed out of the study, reclosing the door on its silent hinges. She glanced up the stairwell. Exploring the mansion’s ground floor without permission was bad enough, but assuming Regina was fine, she’d likely incinerate the blonde if she caught her on the upper floor.

The problem, however, was the cold knot of dread steadily twisting in Emma’s gut was beginning to insist that Regina was not, in fact, fine.

And really, why would she be?

Emma went up the stairs, and because Regina would never make anything easy for the blonde, all the doors to the upstairs rooms were closed. She immediately bypassed the first door, barely glancing at it as she moved towards the rooms she knew to be guest bed rooms. Guest rooms that given the curse and Regina’s reputation had probably never been used but had always been immaculately made up and ready for company. It took Emma less than a minute to open each door and confirm Regina was not in the guest rooms.

That left the two doors she had bypassed. She continued to ignore the first door and instead rapped her knuckles lightly against the door for the master bed room. No answer. “Damn it, Regina,” she growled under her breath. If her hand shook as she reached for the door knob, she chose to ignore it. As the door swung open, she turned her head to the side, eyes closed tight, and hands held up in a protective stance. When nothing happened, she cracked open one eye and slowly lowered her hands to look into the bed room she’d never been allowed anywhere near.

Aside from being neat and probably expensive, Emma hadn’t known what she expected for a formerly evil queen’s bedroom, but dark woods with warm cream-colored bedding and accessories probably wasn’t it. Emma stepped further into the room; it felt warm and inviting. A space that exuded the feeling of stability and safety that a single mother raising a son alone would want to project.

It also felt very empty.

Emma slowly turned on her heel. She swallowed thickly as she eyed the closed door to the ensuite bathroom. Prior to this particular moment in time, Emma would have never considered, even for a second, that the force of nature that was Regina, would commit self-harm, but then, prior to a few days ago, Regina had always had something to live for.

 _Someone_ to live for.

Emma squeezed her eyes shut at the rush of emotion that one simple thought produced. She fisted away the unshed tears before they could fall. The breath she took in was anything but steady as she crossed the room. Before she could talk herself out of it or conjure up any possible scenarios that she could find behind the bathroom door, she twisted the handle and found herself surprised it hadn’t been locked.

The bathroom was just as empty as the rest of the house, and Emma put a bracing hand on the countertop as she momentarily hung her head in utter relief. While living on the streets, she’d seen things that she could never unsee, but if she’d found Regina dead in the bathtub, bled out from self-inflicted wounds…she doubted there was any amount of alcohol in the world that would help her recover. Not on top of everything else that had happened. It would be the one straw too many.

And yet, there was still one straw left. One bed room she hadn’t yet checked. One place left that Regina could be. The one place that Emma did not want to see, and yet, her feet had brought her to that closed bed room door. She dropped her head against the door and placed her hand against its smooth surface. Even from the hallway, she could hear the steady tick of a clock coming from inside the room.

“Please,” she whispered brokenly, “don’t make me do this.”

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, but eventually, she forced herself to open the door. She tried to see the room without seeing it. She basically just looked-for movement. Surely, if Regina was in here, she’d yell at Emma for intruding. She wouldn’t have to actually look up and acknowledge the contents of her son’s room. A hint of Regina’s perfume though forced her head up and while she didn’t see the brunette woman she did see the stack of unread comics by the computer. A sob caught in her throat as she saw the open record player collecting dust; that would have never been allowed to happen before Neverland. Her hand flew to her mouth when she noticed the clock on the nightstand had stopped and needed to be wound. When she realized it would never be wound again, she stumbled out of the room, slamming the door shut.

Emma’s breaths were coming in heaving gasps and the upstairs landing swayed as she grasped hold of the railing, forcing herself to stay upright. If she collapsed to the floor now, she wouldn’t get back up. She wouldn’t care. She’d stay there in a collapsed pile of emotional turmoil until David and Mary Margaret came and found her. She’d end up leaving with them and who knew when she’d bother to venture out of her bed again. She wouldn’t find Regina, and she’d fail her son.

Again.

Emma let out a long cry of anguish, anger, and frustration. She dug her nails into the fine wood of the banister and eventually the mansion righted itself and she was able to lift her head. It took her another good three minutes before she was able to completely right herself and even contemplate her next move. When she finally did straighten, she scrubbed her hands over wet cheeks, and drug them through her hair. She put one foot in front of the other and began to descend the stairs. Without really deciding, she would check the backyard and the garage. Then maybe the Mercedes. Maybe look for a wine cellar, that seemed like the kind of thing Regina would have.

She was headed for the back door by way of walking through the kitchen when she froze. It occurred to her that her quick cursory glance earlier hadn’t really given her a good view of all the corners of the kitchen. In fact, she’d probably seen less than half of it. She realized that because now she could see all of it, and had she taken even one step further into the kitchen earlier she would’ve saved herself a lot of heartache. Because in one of the corners, sitting on the floor, of all places, was Regina Mills.


	2. Chapter 2

“Regina?”

A slew of questions raced through Emma’s mind at the sight of the former mayor sitting in the darkened kitchen. Why didn’t she answer me? Why is she sitting on the floor? Is she all right?

Well, the answer to that last question was obvious.

Emma circled the kitchen island and squatted down in front of Regina’s outstretched legs. She still hadn’t received a response or even an acknowledgment. She placed one hand gently on the brunette’s shin. “Regina?”

Dark eyes finally lifted to meet hers; Emma rocked back on her heels. For a brief moment, Regina’s expression was completely vacant and broken. The brown orbs that so easily expressed hatred for the queen’s enemies or love for her son appeared faded. Lifeless.

Then Regina blinked and a well-practiced veil descended over her features. She frowned, the slight wrinkle building between her brows. “Emma?”

Emma knew her appearance was rough. She had blood shot eyes that were red rimmed and slightly swollen from crying. A chafed and reddened nose from too many tissues. Her hair was still damp from the shower she had forced herself to take before arriving at the mansion. She’d thrown on jeans and a sweater, noticing that all of her clothing fell looser on her body than it had before Neverland. In other words, she had tried to make herself look presentable.

The best she could say for Regina was that she was, at least, not still wearing the clothes she’d had on in Neverland. Gone was the blue blazer, replaced with an Iron Man t-shirt that Emma tried hard not to think too much about and a pair of loose fitting yoga pants. She didn’t have on any makeup making it easy for Emma to see the unhealthy pallor of her skin. There were dark smudges under her eyes that only served to highlight how gaunt she appeared. Emma wondered if she’d eaten at all since…since it happened.

“W-hat are you doing here?” Regina asked, her voice catching slightly as she spoke. It was rougher than usual, likely from disuse, possibly from overuse if the shattered glass was any indication.

Emma didn’t really know why she was there. She had the sudden overwhelming realization that she should not have come. If Regina was standing on some great emotional precipice in danger of going over its edge, then ideally you would want someone to check on her that would talk her back…not join her.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. In the past, that would have earned her a stinging retort about her level of intelligence and possibly her questionable parentage. In the deadened state they both seemed to be existing in, she barely rated the twitch of an eyebrow.

Instead of retreating to regroup, Emma shifted her weight forward until she hit her knees, turned on them and leaned her back against a cabinet, her shoulder brushing against Regina’s. The brunette watched her silently, offering no comment, before turning her attention back to the nothing she had been contemplating before the Savior’s arrival.

They sat together in silence for longer than either of them would have guessed was possible. For a while, Emma was pleased that her brain had gone mercifully blank. Inevitably, thoughts began to slowly creep back into her consciousness; her reprieve was over as one by one things began to build that she felt she should offer into the silence. Did Regina even know there was a memorial being planned?

Out of all the thoughts floating in her head, Emma would have never willingly picked the one that eventually filtered its way down to her mouth and into the previously silent kitchen.

“I miss him.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from beside her. That was it. No comment. No argument or suggestion that Emma was stating the obvious. Just silence.

Oppressive silence that Emma felt was thick with judgment. God, she had to get out of here. She wasn’t helping anything by being there. Despite what Mary Margaret insisted, sometimes you just wanted to deal with shit on your own. And as much as Emma still didn’t know about Regina, she knew the former queen was fiercely independent. Emma’s mere presence was probably forcing her to repress the few emotions she might have been feeling. She shifted her weight so she could try and make some sort of exit. “I’m sorry-”

“I don’t-” Regina said at the same time before her jaw audibly clicked as she shut it, viciously cutting off whatever thought she’d been about to share.

Emma stopped moving; she didn’t relax, but she also didn’t make any further move to leave. She could see the muscle in Regina’s jaw working and the brunette’s hands were balled into white knuckled fists. “Regina?”

The brunette shook her head in a tight refusal to explain herself.

Emma settled back against her cabinet. “You don’t, what?”

Regina flinched at her words being thrown back at her. A tightening of her eyes, nothing more, but enough that Emma caught it. “Come on, Regina.” She watched the fists flex, the veins along the back of her hands moving as the skin tightened. She suspected fingernails were being driven very deep into skin in some effort to control emotions. “You can tell me, you know. Whatever it is.” When she was still answered by silence, Emma suddenly felt very tired. “Please, tell me.”

The plea was nothing more than a whisper but it seemed to get Regina’s attention louder than if she had screamed. Dark brown eyes found watery green. “Why?"

Emma blinked. "Why what?"

"Why do you want to know so bad?”

“I don’t want to be alone,” Emma admitted before her brain could even think to filter her response to something less selfish. “I want to know that someone else feels as badly as I do. I don’t want to be the only one drowning.”

Regina's eyes widened and horror closed over Emma’s expression as she realized what she’d said. She scrambled to get to her feet, running a hand through her hair as she tried to stammer out some excuse for herself. She was awful; she was horrible. She began backing for the door, desperate to make her escape.

“I don’t know how to live without him.”

Emma froze at the quietly offered words. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest and her mouth opened, once, twice, her mind demanding she make some sort of response but she didn’t know what to say.

“I see him everywhere,” Regina continued quietly. “The scuff marks near the front door where he kicked off his shoes. The game console in the living room that he left sitting out. The mismatched placemats on the dining table. The sugary cereal I allowed him to have on the weekends.” Her gaze slowly lifted up to meet Emma’s. “And that’s not the worst part.”

Emma felt her knees slowly bending as she sank back to the floor. She didn’t want to know; she asked anyway, “What’s the worst part?”

“I _expect_ to see him,” Regina admitted. “I look for his backpack when I come in the front door. If I drop something, I think he’ll come around the corner and ask what happened.” A single tear rolled down her cheek. “When it gets dark, I listen for his steps on the stairs and his voice asking what’s for dinner. I look for him before I go upstairs for the night. When I get upstairs, I think to check his room, make sure he’s brushed his teeth or turned off his computer.” She swallowed thickly. “There’s nothing in this house that I can do that doesn’t remind me of him. And then I heard your keys unlocking the front door…”

“And you thought it might be him,” Emma understood. “Oh, Regina, I am so sorry.”

The older woman dropped her head back to the cabinet. “So, no, Miss Swan, you’re not the only one that’s drowning.”


	3. Chapter 3

“What do we do now?”

Regina didn’t bother lifting her head away from the cabinet when she looked at the blonde seated next to her. The silence after their confessions had lasted for another fifteen minutes. She’d almost fallen asleep. It was easily the calmest she’d felt since their return. “I don’t know.”

“Have you eaten?” Emma asked after a moment.

“Not today.”

The blonde frowned at her. “Since we’ve been back?”

“No.”

“Since it…happened?”

Regina shook her head.

“Have you slept?”

“No.”

“Showered?”

Regina winced. “Once. I had to…those clothes, I just couldn’t…”

“Pretty sure I burned mine,” Emma said knowingly. She pushed away from the cabinet, using the counter to pull herself up. “Why don’t you go take a shower and then we can go to Granny’s to get something to eat? Maybe after that, you’ll feel like getting some rest.”

Regina felt a thrill of panic race through her chest. The thought of Granny’s made her think of sitting in the back booth with her son, watching him eat a burger as he pretended not to notice her eating his fries. She clutched her hand to her chest as tears rolled down her cheeks from the simple memory. It seemed her earlier confession had broken the dam and now all the tears she’d been so carefully avoiding were responding with a vengeance.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Emma’s voice was gentle as she knelt down again. She understood instinctually where the emotion was coming from. She’d had a similar reaction when she’d walked past the diner. “You don’t have to go anywhere. Okay? It was a bad idea.” She boldly reached for Regina’s hand. Whatever comfort she’d been about to try and offer vanished at the touch. “Jesus, Regina, your hands are freezing! How long have you been sitting down here?”

Regina flinched as the younger woman began to rub feeling back into her hands. The physical contact and abrupt change of topic caught her off guard. “I-I don’t know.”

“All right, well, we’ve got to get you off this floor. Come on.” Emma got to her feet, pulling Regina up to hers as well, steadying her when she swayed. “Hey, whoa, I got you.”

Regina had to blink back spots that swam in her vision. Blood rushed back into her extremities and the lack of nutrition made itself known. She reached for the counter to keep herself up and felt Emma’s firm grip on her other arm.

Emma ducked slightly to get in the brunette’s line of sight. “Hey, you all right?”

She managed to nod and slowly pull back. Her pride was recovering. “I’m fine.”

“Uh huh,” Emma grunted. “Okay, new plan. I’ll go get us some food from Granny’s and bring it back here, while you go upstairs and take a shower, if you think you can manage it.”

Irritation flared to life. “I am not an invalid, Miss Swan.”

Emma had never been so relieved to hear someone snap at her before. “Good. I’ll get your usual then. Be back in twenty.”

Regina glared at her for a moment before nodding. She had to pause again when she turned too quickly to head for the stairs. A steadying hand found the small of her back but thankfully no words were spoken. The support stayed there until they reached the foot of the stairs. Regina managed a dip of her head. “Thank you, Miss Swan, but I can take it from here.”

Emma hesitated but then dropped her hand. She pulled out her phone and texted in the order to Granny’s. It wasn’t necessary but it gave her something to do while she waited for Regina to ascend the steps without obviously watching her. She understood hating showing weakness.

“Granny’s doesn’t deliver, Miss Swan,” Regina’s voice echoed down from the second floor. Emma felt the smallest twitch of a grin pull at her mouth. The former mayor had known exactly what Emma had been doing and was calling her out on it. It gave her hope.

A half hour later, the two women stood once again at the kitchen island. Emma chewed on grilled cheese as Regina gamely picked at the grilled chicken salad.

“This isn’t my usual,” she said even as she speared a piece of chicken.

“Granny figured you could use the protein.”

Regina nodded in acceptance. She knew that during the curse years the old woman had developed a soft spot for her but she hadn’t expected it to last. “Did she say anything else?”

 Emma toyed with the crust of her sandwich. “She wanted to know if you’d be attending the memorial.”

The few bites Regina had managed to eat threatened to return as her stomach clenched. “What?”

The little bit of color that had returned to the former mayor’s skin paled and Emma kicked herself. Given how Regina had reacted to a simple trip to Granny’s, she really hadn’t wanted to broach the subject of the memorial, but she hadn’t wanted to lie either. She brushed the crumbs off her hands and cleared her throat. “The town is planning a memorial for him. He was the truest believer; he’s the reason the curse broke.”

She was shaking; she felt it in her hands as she dropped her fork. Her vision tunneled and she felt the counter hit her back as she physically retreated from the words. Her knees buckled but something kept her upright and she heard a voice talking to her. She tried to concentrate on it.

“Breathe, Regina. Just breathe,” Emma said, once again steadying the woman, a firm grip on her arms. “Come on, stay with me. Inhale.” She counted to five. “Exhale.” She counted to five again. “Hey, there you are.”

Regina nodded but didn’t try to talk. She continued to breathe, concentrating solely on that and not what Emma had told her to send her in to the tailspin. She couldn’t escape him; she’d never wanted to before but now… He was everywhere she looked, every thought she had circled back to him, every breath in her chest made her lungs ache and her heart hurt. And now they wanted her to attend…

No, actually, they probably _didn’t_ want her to attend. Fire filled her gut with a familiar hatred, and she ground out the words. “He was. _My_. Son.”

Emma backed up at the growl. They were words she’d heard more than once but this time she had no idea why they were being hurled at her. She held up her hands. “ _Our_ son, Regina.”

“Is that why you’re here? You want to take him from me one last time?” she snarled, anger gave her energy. “Let me guess, Mister Cassidy is helping plan it all out, isn’t he? The two of you presenting a unified front of loving parents?”

“What?! No!” Emma was shocked and, if she had to admit it, a bit hurt. “Regina, no one is trying to take him away from you. I haven’t spoken to Neal. I don’t know if he’s even still in town.”

“And you expect me to believe that?”

“Yes, damn it.” Emma was reeling. She hadn’t expected Regina to take the news well but she hadn’t expected her to lash out like this. “The town loved our son! They want to honor him.”

“And their precious Savior, too, I’m sure,” Regina snapped.

All the rage and hurt from the past weeks welled up in Emma’s chest at hearing that godforsaken title. What little control she’d been clinging too broke, and she shoved Regina backwards. “Fuck you and that fucking title! What the fuck good is it to be some goddamned savior when I couldn’t even _save my son_!”

Regina shoved her back. “You admit it! You think he was yours.”

“He was mine! Just as much as he was yours. And he wouldn’t want this!” She stopped. She hadn’t meant to say those last words. It didn’t make them any less true. “He wouldn’t want this,” she repeated, backing away from her son’s other mother. “He wouldn’t want us to fight.”

Hot, angry tears rolled down Regina’s face as she exhaled a shuddering breath. She backed away. “No. He wouldn’t.”

“Today is the first time I’ve been out of bed in three days, Regina,” Emma admitted. “I haven’t had anything to do with the memorial.” She looked at the floor. “I don’t…I don’t _want_ to have anything to do with it.”

“You don’t?” Regina asked. Emma shook her head. “But why not?” She didn’t either but the town hated her.

Emma released a watery exhale and swiped at her eyes. “I’m barely breathing as it is,” she said. “I just…I can’t.”

Regina nodded. _That_ she understood. “When will it be?”

“Two days.” She heard the sharp intake of breath and looked up. “Will you go?”


	4. Chapter 4

“Regina?”

The woman in question turned and saw Snow approaching. She stiffened but managed a small smile that was genuine. She'd known this day would not be easy.

“Emma didn’t tell me you were coming.” The petite brunette stopped short of hugging her former step-mother, but they both knew it had taken a bit of effort on Snow’s part.

Regina turned back to the bronze pillar that bore her son’s name. “I asked her not to mention it in case…”

“In case you changed your mind?” Snow finished and Regina nodded. “It’s good to see you.”

It had been five years since Regina had left Storybrooke and four years since Emma had joined her in New York. The day of the memorial ceremony, Regina had very quietly packed a few things and left town. She’d left a note for Emma with her forwarding address and a year later the younger woman had shown up on her doorstep.

The blonde had looked haggard. Prominent cheek bones, red rimmed eyes, and limp blonde hair that had lost its sheen. Emma had tried to do what Regina had easily decided she wasn’t capable of doing. She’d tried to stay in a town where the memory of her son was a living ghost. Regina had understood; Emma’s parents were still in Storybrooke. She’d finally found them and wanted to build a relationship with them. Without her son, Regina had no longer had any familial ties to anchor her to the town she built. She’d had no reason to stay.

But after a year of trying, Snow, of all people, had convinced Emma to leave. As a family, they’d found each other; they wouldn’t lose each other again, but staying in the town surrounded by memories of her son was slowly killing Emma. Snow knew Regina had built a life for herself in New York; she was still grieving and always would be, but she was living. One afternoon, while Emma was at work, Snow had called the former mayor and arrangements had been made. Convincing Emma to leave had been its own set of challenges, but Regina hadn’t been surprised when Emma knocked on her door a few weeks later.

The blonde had slept straight through the entire first week she’d been in the penthouse, emerging only to eat and bathe. After that, Regina had started incorporating Emma into her life. She’d started dragging her to places whether she’d wanted to go or not. An art gala. Lunch. Therapy. Despite her initial reluctance, Emma had started to reengage with life. She’d even picked up another bailbonds gig which led to a few investigations of other natures. Eventually with Regina’s connections and Emma’s street savvy, they’d built an interesting reputation of being able to help people in need with an odd assortment of problems. Dead-beat dads, fraudulent investments, rehoming kids on the street, sex trafficking, and the always more difficult to find bail jumpers.

Through out it all, Emma had stayed in contact with her parents and Storybrooke. She made trips back every few months but this was the first trip back for Regina. It was the first time she had visited her son’s memorial. She’d watched a recording of its initial dedication that Emma had brought with her to New York. That had required an extra few sessions of therapy that month. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about missing it or more importantly how her son would’ve felt about both of his mothers missing it. 

It had been months after that fact before she learned Emma hadn’t been able to bring herself to attend either. Snow had later confided to Regina that she’d seen Emma watching the ceremony from afar, and that it was the first of many nights when Snow had found Emma passed out late at night at the pillar’s base. Leaving Storybrooke may have been the easy way out, but Regina knew it had saved her life. And possibly Emma's as well.

“Will you be staying for the ceremony?” Snow asked, bringing Regina out of her memory.

“I…yes.” She still couldn’t believe it had been five years. He’d have been a teenager, stressing her out with dating and driving. She often wondered what his career interests would have been.

“Good,” Snow said. She ran her hand down Regina’s arm and gently grasped her hand. “I’m glad Emma has you.” She laughed softly when the older woman’s head snapped around to stare at her. She nodded at the engraved heart on the pillar. “I think he’d approve. He would’ve liked knowing you were both happy again.”

Regina was shocked into silence. She and Emma’s relationship had been a very gradual evolvement. They had been each other’s sounding boards and support systems in the beginning. They eventually admitted to being friends. During the last year, they’d allowed gazes to become heated and lingering looks were no longer hidden. Holding hands as they’d walked in a museum or sitting together under one blanket on the couch had become commonplace. One day, Emma had kissed her before she’d left the house to run an errand. That night, Regina had kissed Emma when she’d returned home. They let that evolve at its own pace, too, and eventually found themselves sleeping in the same bed more often than not. One night, a quick good night kiss deepened and gentle touches began to explore. They’d found more than solace in each other; they’d found life again.

“He believed in you, Regina. He would’ve wanted you to love again.” Snow gave Regina’s hand a quick squeeze. “People will probably start arriving in an hour. I’ll leave you to it.”

As quickly and as unexpectedly as she arrived, Snow was gone. Regina blinked into the afternoon sun and pulled her coat tighter around her. That had been wholly unexpected and she wasn't quite sure what to do with it. She looked at the pillar and the name engraved on it; in some ways, the interaction with Snow almost felt like one those covert operations he had always been running. Logically, Regina knew her son wasn’t there twisting fate around like a story. In her mind, she knew he wasn’t just hanging around watching their lives from afar, but she did have hope that somewhere he did know about she and Emma. She hoped Snow was right and that he approved.

She tugged at the fingers of one of her gloves, pulling it off. Taking a step forward, she placed her hand over the engraved heart. “I love you so much,” she whispered, “and I miss you.” She stayed that way until she felt a presence behind her. Without looking away, she questioned, “He knew that I loved him, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, he knew,” Emma reassured her as she came to stand beside her. She’d been hanging back, giving Regina her space, but she’d known the question was coming. Regina had asked it more than once over the years and Emma would answer it the same every time. “He loved you.”

Regina nodded and wiped away a tear. “Your mother was here. She said he would’ve been happy we were together.”

Emma took Regina's free hand in her own. “I think he would’ve been. Don’t you?”

The older woman let out a watery chuckle. “I think he would’ve been surprised.”

“Nah," Emma drawled, "he knew you liked me.”

Regina arched an eyebrow as she finally turned her gaze away from the pillar. “Is that so, Miss Swan?”

"You Mills are all the same. Just can't resist the blonde," Emma said, a smile breaking out across her face. 

"Only one blonde in particular," Regina allowed. 

“He was a smart kid,” she said as if that explained everything. She then added cheekily, “another trait he obviously got from me.”

“I see,” Regina allowed, turning back to the pillar, “and what did he get from me then?”

“His good looks and loving heart," Emma answered easily.

Regina squeezed the blonde's hand, appreciating the sentiment more than she could articulate. She placed her free hand over the bronze heart once more.

Emma sobered. “We can stay as long as you want.”

“No, I think…I think I can leave now,” she said. “I have what I needed.” She brought two fingers to her lips, kissed them and touched the engraved inscription.

_Henry Mills – The Truest Believer and Beloved Son_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the support you've given this story. I really appreciate it.


End file.
